Sunday Snapshot

:)

The Day We Moved My Mom

August 28, 2014.  The day I had been dreading--sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously--for years.  The day we moved my mother into a nursing home.

It was a day blanketed in peace and covered with grace.  In reality, it was a day that turned out to be easier than I ever thought possible (sound familiar?).  :)

Let me start this account of my mom's big move by saying that in general, I have been doing fine with all of this; but once in a while, grief has welled up and threatened to overwhelm me.  It's always worse when it's combined with something else: stress of some sort, or other grief triggers, or things like that; and the part about it that I hate the most is that it often manifests itself through grouchiness towards my kids.  There have been a few times that I have been an absolute bear with them, but I've learned to recognize that the sharpness of my tongue in those cases is related to the pain in my heart because of my mom.  That does NOT make it OK (but it is helpful to realize the connection), and I've needed to apologize to my children for being so impatient and grumpy.  I'd much rather go cry my eyes out in the shower (and maybe I've done that a time or two) ;-) than be sharp-tongued with my kids, because I abhor the damage done to them by this crazy manifestation of mourning.  I need more of God's Spirit to help me be self-controlled, that's for sure.  :(

Aside from that however, I have felt an amazing sense of buoyancy as I've felt myself lifted by the prayers of so many dear people who care.  Here's something I wrote on Facebook last night...

On this memorable day--the day we moved Mom into a nursing home--want to know the song that was running through my head when I woke up? It was--oddly--this. I think it's kind of random that this song would be the soundtrack for my waking thoughts today; but then again, with its message of caring for each other, maybe it was the perfect choice.

"If the sky comes falling down for you,
there's nothing in this world I wouldn't do."

If there's one thing I've felt during this challenging week, it's cared for. Supported. Loved. Prayed for. Lifted up. Surrounded by strong arms to hold me up.

Of course it's always wonderful to hear that people are praying for me; but during this time, I've been especially moved by that...and not just in the sense of "wow, I appreciate that person praying for me," but also because I feel so loved BY GOD when He moves the hearts of people to pray, at just the right time.

Three examples:

A friend named Kathie commented on a previous post that she woke up this morning thinking about me and praying for us. She didn't even know this was the move-in day, but God pricked her heart to be in prayer, and she obeyed.

On Monday evening (I think that's right), my aunt Joyce in Canada was praying in a group for this situation; and she got choked up (my mom is her sister after all, so she feels the grief of this deeply, too) and couldn't continue her prayer. Her daughter-in-law's mother (I think!) jumped right in and began to pray for us, covering the whole situation in prayer...all the way from British Columbia.

Gail, a friend I've known since we began kindergarten together(!) "happened" to see my parents and I in our big white van on Wednesday afternoon as we were moving some of Mother's things into her new room. She immediately began to pray specifically for us, and I am moved almost to tears simply by the thought that not only does Gail care about us, but also God cares so much. How kind of Him to arrange for an "old" friend to "happen" to see us and pray hard, right at that moment when we were walking into the nursing home.

"What if I'm far from home?
Oh brother, I will hear you call.
What if I lose it all?
Oh sister, I will help you out!"

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't an accident that such a crazy song was in my head first thing this morning!!

It's a little "dangerous" to start mentioning specific people, because I might--and probably will--leave out someone that really should have been mentioned!  But I decided to share those three examples above, just as a sample of how so many kind souls have been so encouraging and supportive.  What a gift it's been to be surrounded by such love!

With that intro, let me jot down what this week has been like, in regards to Mother's move.  Dad and I had talked some about what we needed to take to the nursing home, and I had helped him mark Mom's clothes with her name, as requested by the home.  Then on Wednesday, we three, my parents and I, loaded some things--clothes, pictures for the walls, a rocking chair for her room--into the big white van and drove the 9 miles or so to the nursing home to begin the move-in process.

Although there had been times prior to this that the topic of her move to the nursing home came up in conversation, Wednesday was the first day that I personally had talked very much with her about it.  According to Dad's testimony, she had never gotten upset at all about it when he had talked with her in the preceding weeks; and I had certainly never seen any agitation in her spirit about it.  So it was on this day.  As we talked about this transition, she said once that it would be really "different" to live in the nursing home; and another time she used the word "happy" to describe herself in her new setting.  But verbal communication is difficult enough with her at this stage that it was hard for me to feel like I was getting any kind of clear picture of her thoughts about the move--and indeed, did she even comprehend at all what was really going on, that this was a permanent change?  However, despite our lack of ability to talk deeply about it, I was still greatly comforted by the fact that she didn't seem upset or anxious or unhappy in the least.

The move-in process went fine on Wednesday, and I was reminded again of how wonderful the staff is in the Alzheimer's unit.  Just one example: Sarah, the director of the program, spent a good bit of time with us that afternoon; and she was quick to reach out and put her arm around Mom and give her a little hug when appropriate.  My mom is affectionate enough that I think she would starve emotionally without that kind of loving touch; and since we won't be around to provide as much of that as we used to, I'm thankful that others will be.

Another thing that stands out in my memory from that afternoon was an encounter between my mother and one of the other residents.  My mom went over to where this lady was sitting and told her how beautiful her blue eyes were.  The lady perked up and was obviously thrilled to be given that compliment, and she and my mother started talking.  At one point in the conversation, my mom even leaned over and gave the woman a kiss on the forehead, which was very sweet, and it reminded me of what a blessing my mom will be in that setting as she shines the love of Jesus in a challenging situation.  But what really made me laugh (to myself) ;-) was the conversation between this other lady and my mom.  I can't duplicate it at all, but trust me when I say that it made very little sense; and I thought, "Oh my!  What kind of outrageous conversations do these caregivers hear in this setting where they have 14 memory-impaired individuals living together??"  :)

I didn't shed any tears at the nursing home that day; and after we finished our tasks over there, we drove home together to share in another "last" (this week has been full of them!): the last meal at home before her move.  Whenever I get too melancholy about these milestones, I remind myself that it will certainly not be the last time we eat together, nor the last time she's in our home, nor the last time for much of anything!  Lord willing, we will have many more years of precious times together.

When Thursday morning came, I called Dad to tell him that I would be a little later getting to the nursing home than I had originally planned.  You see, Mother needed a cover for her bed (the nursing home would have provided one if we didn't, but it would have been plain, and I wanted a pretty one for Mom); and since it's a single bed, we didn't have one here at home.  I really, really wanted to go to a local farmer's market to get a quilt for my mother; and the market didn't open until 10:00, which happened to be the time of Mom's admission to the home.  I knew my dad wouldn't mind if I was a little late, but I didn't tell him exactly what errand I needed to do.

It might be a little silly; but to me, choosing this quilt for my mom was highly significant, especially because when I went off to college long ago, my mother helped me choose a pretty comforter for my bed there.  That ol' circle of life was turning again, and I was glad to get to do for my mother what she had done for me.

I purposely took the kids along with me on Thursday, although I knew my neighbor would have gladly watched them if I had wanted her to.  But not only did I want my kids to see their grandma's new living situation, I also thought it would be easier for me to deal with things emotionally if I had the distraction of children to care for.  :)

So it wasn't just me walking into the market to select a quilt, and whatever sad emotions I might have felt about this task I was doing were pushed aside by the brightness and curiosity and joy of my children.  Tobin, especially, was excited to be there, because just down from the shop where I got the quilt is a shop that sells saddles; and since he plans to be a cowboy, he wants to buy a saddle.  After looking them over while I looked over the quilts, he chose the one he liked best; and then, as soon as we got home later that day, he started finding extra odd jobs to do around here so he could earn money to save up for his saddle.  :)  I'm drifting from the story of my mom's move by including this, but I will mention here that in the past three days, he has taken so much initiative to help me in various ways: things like cleaning mirrors and windows, cleaning the railings of the stairs, vacuuming, making beds, picking up wood chips, taking out trash, setting the table, cleaning the toilets, putting toys away, helping with dishes, etc.  It's been amazing.  :)  But back to Thursday...

As I walked out of the market, Moriah in my arms and boys around me, an older couple was approaching; and as we neared them, I gave them a quick glance and smile.  It did my heart good to see them notice my children and hear the gentleman say, "That's the best part of life."  He wasn't talking about the quilt I had just bought.  ;-)

We drove the short distance to the nursing home, found a parking spot, and then entered the facility; and then came the only moment that brought tears to my eyes.  As we walked into the common area of the Gardner Wing, I immediately saw that my mother was sitting at the piano, playing some hymn arrangements.  As the music filled the air, my kids ran to her, saying, "Grandma! Grandma! I love you, Grandma!"  She interrupted her playing to put her arms around them and give them big hugs.  The combination of hearing beautiful music, seeing the love between my children and my mom, and feeling my mom's new quilt in my arms did me in; and I had to pause to let some emotion escape around my eyeballs.  ;-)  No big surprise there.  :)

The rest of the time was extremely pleasant.  My kids, especially Moriah, charmed the residents and staff (I mean, seriously, who can resist a sweet little two-year-old in a pretty flowered dress who holds a pink stuffed dog and gives you a big smile as she pats your hand?); and I caught a vision for how my family can reach out to the other residents when we go to visit my mom and bring a bit of sunshine to hearts that may be lonely.

It reminded me of the regular visits Josiah and I made to an old lady, Ralia, in a nursing home in Tel Aviv when we lived in Israel.  I think she really enjoyed our visits, but she wasn't the only one: all the residents on that floor seemed to perk up when Josiah came through the door.  I particularly remember one man who didn't really talk to anybody, but he was so happy to play cars with Josiah when we came.  I truly hope we can extend our love and caring to other residents in my mom's new home, not just to my mom.

The first thing I wanted to do there was show my kids Grandma's new room, and they enjoyed seeing where she'll be staying ("she has a bathroom!" and "look, there's her toothbrush!" and "I remember that picture!" were some of the comments they said).  :)  And then I showed them the other features of that area of the nursing home: we looked at the birds they have in a wonderful, large, glassed-in area, we admired paintings on the wall, we walked around the porch and courtyard area and smelled the roses, etc.  After that, I pulled out some activity books I had brought along; and let whoever wanted to, get one of those and start working.  My parents had some things they needed to be doing for the admissions process; but eventually they came and sat down with us, too.

I didn't take very many pictures that day; and in fact, I was strongly tempted to not take my camera.  But in the end, I decided I wanted a picture of the quilt, so I grabbed my camera and took it along.  I certainly didn't snap many photos though, but here's a sample of how that time went.

When the time came to leave (my dad stayed longer to eat lunch with my mom, but I needed to bring the kids home), I was not emotional, which may be a surprise to those who know me.  ;-)  To tell you the truth, in the preceding weeks, as I had thought how that day would unfold, I had really expected to cry all the way home; but after being there with Mother and seeing how peaceful she was and how kind the caregivers were, I didn't feel the need to mourn this next step like I thought I would.  And like I said before, I had kids there to be an effective distraction for me.  :)

I was curious, of course, to hear how things went for Dad when he said goodbye to her, and I sort of expected some anguish; but he reported that everything went just fine; and the next day when he went to visit her, he found her in good spirits--her same cheerful, content, peaceful, warm self.  I think my mother has learned the secret of Philippians 4:12!

Today Dad got Mom and took her to her hair appointment, then brought her out here.  She is actually spending the night at home with him because their church is having service out at a camp tomorrow, and it will be easier for them to go out to that if he doesn't have to go pick Mom up at the nursing home first.  It was GOOD to have Mom in the circle around our supper table tonight; and for her first meal at home after her move, I made old-fashioned macaroni and cheese the way she always used to make it when I was growing up; plus, we had tomato sandwiches and fresh watermelon from our garden and a bowl of cut-up peaches.  Such a country supper.  ;-)

I know that this Alzheimer's journey is far from over, and I fully expect some truly difficult steps to be coming in the future.  But this--oh my, what a relief to have this transition over!  I've thought a number of times that we are so blessed to have such good care for Mother: first, with the home health aides who were so helpful during the past several months while Mother was still at home, and now with the Alzheimer's unit of this nursing home.

During what has been one of the most challenging times of my life, blessing upon blessing has been poured out.  Even though I never wanted things to end up this way (and even now, I would want my mom's Alzheimer's taken away in an instant if I could!), I'm reminded that God's ways are higher than our ways.

And seen from the right perspective, His ways are always, always good.

101 Years Ago {A Violin's Story}

101 years ago, a violin was made, skillfully formed by some talented craftsman who (I assume and hope) took great pride in his work.

I know the age of this instrument because, if you could peek through these f-holes...

 ...you would see a label inside that reads "Eduard Reichert, Dresden, fecit anno 1913."

28 years ago, my parents bought it for me, procuring it from Weaver's Violin Shop in Chevy Chase, MD, and paying $720 for it.  They bought it, a full-size violin, in December of 1986 to replace the 3/4 size Knilling Violin they had purchased for $175 in January of that same year.  In that case, that violin was purchased from a local family for me to use as my first violin when I began lessons.  I guess I grew enough from January to December to necessitate a new instrument.  ;-)

After taking violin lessons for several years in the 80s, I discontinued them as my school and extracurricular schedule got more and more crowded.  Something had to give; and although I often wished it didn't have to be that way, violin got pushed out of my life...

...until my college years when I briefly resumed lessons.  But once again, a full schedule demanded that I prioritize my obligations; and the violin got the ax.  (Fortunately, not literally.)  ;-)  However, while in college, 17 years ago, to be exact, I had the violin refurbished, so to speak.  With a new bridge, new pegs, new strings, new horsehair on the bow, and a few other repairs, the bill came to $245.92.

The violin traveled with me to California when I moved there as a newlywed; and if memory serves me correctly, I played it once for a church service.  When our life's journey took us to Israel, the violin was stored away, then eventually moved to Virginia where it sat virtually untouched in a corner of our library...

...for such a time as this.  And you can just bet that one look at my firstborn holding my violin made me overwhelmingly grateful that we had kept it all those years!

 Three days ago, we picked up the violin from Glen, a local luthier whom I've written about before.  When I dropped it off with him, I really wasn't sure what he would say about the instrument: after all those years of neglect, would it even be worth anything anymore?  And how expensive would it be to fix it up into good playing condition?

When Glen looked at it, he was immediately positive, affirming that he would be able to fix it with no trouble.  He rehaired the bow, put on new pegs, put a bridge on it, set the sound post back up, cleaned it, and treated it for mites--everything necessary to get it ready for its newest player to use it.

And the grand total for all his work?

$70.

The man is a jewel, I tell ya!  And the lessons I had previously learned from him flowed through my mind and washed over my soul again.  I want to be like Glen when I grow up.

It's funny what a violin can teach a person, even after 101 years; and the best lessons have nothing to do with Bach minuets and Vivaldi concertos.

They have to do with LIFE.

Wordless Wednesday {Simple Entertainment on a Summer Evening}

They Say It's National Dog Day

I'm not exactly sure who gets to decide such things, but I know it must really be true that we're celebrating National Dog Day today because I heard it on K-LOVE.  And then I saw about a million and a half pictures of dogs on Facebook, so any remaining doubt in my mind was swept away.

Well, who am I to miss the boat on such an important holiday?  I simply couldn't.

Jed was wiggly enough that it was hard to get a non-blurry picture of him this evening; but even still, I'm glad to show off my favorite dog.  :)

Happy National Dog Day, Jeddy boy!

Let 'Em Paint!

Confession: I am not a very good painter.

Correction: I am not a very experienced painter.  I'm guessing that if I did it long enough, I could achieve some measure of skill at it; but the fact remains that I have never painted a room of my house...neither have I painted a wall of my house...neither, to the best of my knowledge, have I painted a square inch of my house.  No wonder I'm not a very good painter!  ;-)

True story: to prove how poor my painting skills are, I'll tell you about the time some friends of ours in California were moving into a different house, and we offered to help them get the house ready.  Which meant painting.  The man of the house, named Jeff but not my Jeff, took one look at the painting I was doing, then promptly decided I would be much more helpful if I would kindly drive to Home Depot and buy more paint.  So I did.  End of story.  ;-)

Resolution: to help my kids grow up painting, so that someday when they move out on their own, they'll have some experience--and hopefully, skill--in that area.  Perhaps then, they'll be able to do some painting in their own homes (and maybe come home to mine and paint it for me!)  ;-).  What's more, perhaps they'll be able to be a blessing to their friends who are moving into new homes by actually helping them with the painting--not just with the buying of said paint.  ;-)

Action plan: letting the boys paint our compost box.  You can't do much to mess up that, so it seemed a pretty safe place for them to start honing their skills.  ;-)

The compost box before: a sad, lonely, dirty brown.  Well, OK, maybe I'm personifying it too much when I attach the adjectives "sad" and "lonely" to it, but "dirty brown" certainly applies.  ;-)

 Each of the boys got a side to paint: Tobin had the east.

 He showed off his ambidextrous painting skills.  (Lefties are SO talented.)  ;-)

 David had the south.

 Shav had the west.

 That cute little pudgy tummy of his reminds me that, despite his 5 years of life, a little bit of babyness still clings to him.  I love that.  ;-)

 And Josiah had the north.

It was hot today, necessitating a few breaks for the younger boys; but in general, they all stuck at it, happy to be slathering paint on something.  At the end, they ran out of paint, so the project isn't *quite* finished; but despite that, I'd say that Project Let My Children Paint! was a success.

Mission: accomplished!  :)

When a Daughter Reaches up to Her Daddy...

...if he's any kind of loving, attentive father at all...

 ...it won't be too long before he reaches down...

 ...and takes her into his arms.

 If Jeff, imperfect (though wonderful!) father though he may be, does this...

 ...how much more does our Daddy in heaven do this for us...

...his beloved kids?

I was thinking about this tonight while washing some dishes, and then a song came on the radio that I had never heard before--or if I had heard it, it hadn't stood out to me.  The song was this.  How appropriate.  :)

Every day, every week, every month, every year has its challenges; but some days seem to have bigger ones than other days do!  During this week of extra big challenges for me, one thing that's keeping me afloat is this image of God reaching down to pick me up and carry me.

Because I am his cherished little girl.

SVCC Tour: Day Four

The first post in this series is here.  The second is here.  The third is here.  The fourth is here.  The fifth is here.  The sixth is here.  The seventh is here.  

With only a couple of weeks left before the beginning of a new year of making glorious music with the Shenandoah Valley Children's Choir, it is high time I finish up this account of our tour this past June!  :)

This fourth and final day of our tour was set aside solely for fun: a trip to Busch Gardens.  With all the rehearsals and concerts out of the way, everyone was ready to relax and enjoy all that the amusement park had to offer!

When we got there, the chaperons were instructed to leave the bus first and then place ourselves into one of three groups: those who didn't particularly care for the rides and who would rather spend their time watching shows, those who loved the rides and would go on anything, and those in the middle.  I would have been glad to go with any of the groups, if needed; but my first choice was the in-the-middle group, and as it turned out, there were plenty of chaperons in each group so I got to stay with the middlers.  :)  As a bonus, when the choristers got off the bus and chose which of the three groups to join, Josiah came to the middle one; and I was extra grateful that I got to spend the day with him.  :)

Although I had been to Busch Gardens when I was much younger, it had probably been 20+ years since I had been there, and I didn't remember much at all about the park.  Fortunately, we were with some others who were much more familiar with it, and they led us around to various entertaining things, including a flight-over-Europe simulation and a humorous show that involved Irish dancing.

And of course, there were the rides...  ;-)

 I barely took any pictures all day long.  Sometimes even the most enthusiastic shutterbugs have to put the camera away and just enjoy being in the moment.  :)  But even without a picture to prove it, I'll mention that the most exciting(?) moment of the day came when a roller coaster I was on got stuck.  We had ridden most of the ride, and it was quite an intense one; but as we approached the platform to get off, the roller coaster stopped, and we couldn't go any further.  We weren't in any danger, but I'm sure I wasn't the only one who started to get a claustrophobic feeling as the thick bars surrounding our faces and bodies seemed to press more heavily against us the longer we waited!  The employees who were running the ride couldn't get it to work, so we had to wait for technicians from a different part of the park to come and get it working again.  All's well that ends well, and fortunately even that roller coast ride ended well.  But I sure was glad to get off it.  ;-)

At the end of the day, we ate dinner together before heading back to the bus; and of course, everyone had stories to tell of all they had seen and done that day.

 As we walked back through the park to get to the bus, we seemed to lose people left and right, as this little group shot off into this or that souvenir store to get a last-minute gift, or a few people needed to stop at the bathroom, or whatever.  It was a relief to finally get everyone all together again!  :)

 Knowing that this was the end of the tour--and for some people, this was the last time they would be part of this circle of joined hands as they sang "Siyahamba"--made this moment especially meaningful.

 No wonder so many of the parents had to snap a picture while the choir was singing.  :)

 When the tour started, I really only knew a handful of choristers; but by the end, I at least knew everyone's name--and in most cases, something significant about them.  What's more, the conversations I had with the other chaperons were so very enjoyable and enlightening.  On the long drive home from Busch Gardens, for example, I got to sit with Mrs. Wampler and enjoyed the chance to "sit at her feet" and learn from her as she shared from her life.  I also discovered that I'm actually distantly related to her, because her husband is some sort of cousin to my dad!  :)

At the end of the tour, I had to look back at the Davene who began the tour and laugh a little.  I can't believe I was ever unsure if I wanted to go!  I can't believe I was nervous!  I can't believe I was so clueless about how much fun it would be!!  :)

So much fun, in fact, that I (true confession time) actually had a little bit of a hard time re-adjusting to normal life after tour was over!  Of course, it was so good to see Jeff again that Monday night when we pulled into the parking lot and unloaded for the last time from the bus; and when we got home, David, the author of the note below, was ecstatic to see us again (the other three children were all asleep when we got home, so they missed the official welcome home).

But as grateful as I was for the familiar comforts of home and family, I was also missing the thrill and excitement of going, and doing, and seeing new places, and meeting new people, and hearing gorgeous music, and being part of such a special group.

I know the SVCC will go on tours in the future, and I hope to tag along for many of them!  But no matter what thrilling places we might go and no matter how long the trips might be, there will always be a cherished spot in my heart for this: the SVCC tour when my firstborn turned 12.

Our first SVCC tour together...

...but hopefully not our last!!  :)

Sometimes the Heart is So Full...

...that whenever the thoughts try to come out the door of the heart, they get stuck; and all they can do is stay there, trapped in a bottleneck.

Sometimes so many special events have happened that it's impossible to decide which one to record on a blog first, and the indecision leads to procrastination which results in paralysis.

Sometimes all that can be done is to post a cute picture, call it a night...

...and hope for more "talkative" typing fingers another day.

Wordless Wednesday {Her First Carousel Ride}